The Story of a Story of a Story of Chaos
by Dawn Searcher
Summary: Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien took pleasure in writing The Lord of the Rings. We, Author Ve and Author Ev, take pleasure in wrecking it.


**Disclaimer **

**Ev: I am Author Evangeline, known as Ev.**

**Ve: and I am Author Vesper Dawn, often called Ve.**

**Both: We own nothing Lord of the Rings-**

**Ve: I own the DVDs, but that's besides the point-**

**Ev: yes, it is, and shut up.**

**Ve: so...what do we write about? **

**Ev: I thought you had the big inspiration...**

**Ve: as a matter of fact I do, but (whispers in Ev's ear)**

**Ev: ooh...that's very good...(snickers). May I type first?**

**Ve: (with evil grin), by all means, go right ahead!**

**(Ev takes the seat in front of the computer screen, and begins typing.)**

_One rainy day in an imaginary town, Author Ev and Author Ve were very bored. Rain beat down on the windows. Rain beat down on the roof, and rain beat down on the ugly shed outside Author Ve's house._

'_Let's play a game.' Suggested Author Ev._

'_But which?'_

'_Same as usual. Prepare your pencils!'_

_The Authors collected a stack of paper and sharpened a row of twenty-five pencils. They were preparing for a writing competition. They decided that the story must have a plot, include Lord of the Rings characters, and each author must write a full page before passing the paper on. The object of the game, as always, was to force the other author into a plot hole or something of that sort._

'_I'll go first', said Ve._

The room was quite extraordinary, if it could be called a room at all. Instead of walls, it had four enormous bookshelves that were about ten stories high. They had a multitude of strange objects, and books of course, on all eight million, two hundred and fifty-four thousand, one hundred and twelve of their shelves. Long, glowing ladders were flying around of their own accord, the tips of which were shaped like hands and were constantly rearranging the objects. Up on the third story height of the shelf opposite, one was for some reason juggling more than ten cat skulls as it inched perilously close to another one.

The strangest phenomenon in it, though, was the fact that doors kept on popping into existence everywhere. Directly above, a silver-hinged wooden door came into existence and dumped out a mess of writing utensils. There were ballpoint pens and mechanical pencils, but also slate, quills, and bits of reeds. Elsewhere, a heavy, medieval-style door vanished, leaving behind a pile of swords and assorted armour on the stone floor.

'Ve, are you sure that you booked for the doors to stop so we might have a window in which to bring our guests?' the black-robed Ev said, tapping away at a golden typewriter.

'I am sure, beyond sure, Ev. Besides, the first of your guests is already here.' Even as she spoke, Boromir was dusting himself off and looking around with a bewildered expression.

'Where am I? I remembered I was busy dying from Orc arrows, but all of a sudden I dropped into here. Is this death?' He glanced at the cat skulls. Before the Authors could reply, a glowing door opened above him and out dropped Meriadoc Brandybuck, still wearing heavy armour. Boromirs' poor head...Boromir's poor sanity...

'What on Arda is going on here?'

'We will tell you when everyone's arrived!' shouted the Authors above the din of various armoured people dropping from glowing doors. It became so bright that they shielded their eyes in fear of damage, and it became so loud that they wished they could plug their ears at the same time. They hastily stepped out of the way as Shadowfax dropped spectacularly on Grima Wormtongue, then jumped as Gimli landed axe first - luckily, not on anyone. The confusion grew exponentially from there, and the Authors tried to climb a wall - bookshelf. When the room finally quietened down from curses, shouts, sick crunches, thumps, rings of swords, and declarations of absolute loyalty, (which was about thirty minutes later) the Authors gathered everyone's attention.

'ATTENTION, ATTENTION!'

In no way did everybody in the room pay attention (Grima was still out cold, and Shadowfax was a _horse_), but the Authors figured most were and so continued.

'Ladies and gentlemen-' the Men looked to the shelf onto which the Authors have climbed. Some were in the middle of a duel.

'Elves and elleths-' the Elves have apparently organized themselves, and as one they looked on.

'Is that the plural? Hobbits and...horse-' the hobbits looked rather offended. Shadowfax shuffled a little.

'Nazgûl and Orcs-' everybody suddenly noticed the presence of the Ringwraiths, and quickly took as many steps away as they could.

'Ents and Wizards-' Saruman crouched behind the Nazgûl and tried to hide from Treebeard, Gandalf, and Quickbeam. It was not working.

'And the rest of the honoured characters in the epic Lord of the Rings, compiled by Master Frodo Baggins.' There was some unsure applause, a few angry noises from Shelob and Bill the pony, and a single 'we hates Bagginses' from Gollum. Soon it was quieter than the grave again.

'You are all probably wondering why you are doing here. Well, you are here to answer to me, Author Ve, and Author Ev over there. We are guardians of the Unreal World, thus the bookshelves.' Everyone looked around, and a few realized that the room seemed much bigger than before. Much, much bigger, as it actually fit everybody comfortably.

Aragorn, as usual, spoke out first, while everyone else was still absorbing the information. 'If it is your wish for us to aid your world in battle, we would do so gladly. You could have simply asked us, instead of wrenching me from Minas Tirith like that.'

Author Ev passed the typewriter to Author Ve, and spoke: 'Hold, you. Allow me to explain in more'-here she shot a dirty look at Author Ve-'normal terms. You are in an Unreal World, meaning that there is no time and the rules of physics do not necessarily apply-' here she sobbed, and Author Ve rolled her eyes.

'Please, what be the "rules of physics"?'

Author Ev took a pebble from the pile on the shelf beside her, and let go. Instead of dropping onto the floor, it shot upwards towards the whiteness outside. She raised an eyebrow, and continued. 'You have all been pulled from the point which you disappeared in Frodo's tale. This may be when you died, or when you were never mentioned again afterwards. Any questions so far?'

Everyone shot an accusatory look at Frodo, then Gandalf bid the Authors continue.

'The only way that you can get back to your world is to type your way out!' Author Ev grinned and pointed at the typewriter. 'But that's not all!' she said at the indignant looks on everyone's faces, 'the beauty of it is that you can type yourselves in at _any point_ of the original tale!' The Authors beamed, but quickly began to worry about the greedy expressions that have popped up. Some weapon-less characters immediately began to scavenge weapons from the pile on the floor. Finally, there came a sensible question from Gimli:

'We are not supposed to even speak the same language, so how can we manage to work that…thing?'

Author Ve showed him the keys, and he exclaimed, 'it's in Dwarvish!'

'And I suppose it would be in Elvish if I cast my eyes upon it?' asked Arwen

The Authors smirked. 'At least we have someone smart in here. Any more questions?'

Peregrin opened his mouth, but Author Ev interrupted.

'Eight million, two hundred and fifty-four thousand, one hundred and twelve.'

He tried to speak again.

'Yes, it is indeed a fruit. So are cucumbers.'

He tried again, again.

'The stone of Minas Ithil, or Minas Morgul.'

And again...

'I won't even answer that one. You might need cleaning between the ears.' The hobbits slowly shifted away from him.

'How do you know my questions before I ask them?' The Authors grinned, but said nothing. All of a sudden, Grima jumped up.

'This arrangement is notoriously unfair!' he cried, 'they can use magic!' he pointed at Gandalf, then Saruman, then the Elves. And where are the mighty soldiers of Isengard?"

'And who'd want to get the...type thing from _them_?' complained Sam, pointing at the Nazgûl.

'Well, have you actually been afraid of them this while?'

Everyone realized that the usual atmosphere of fear and despair around the Nazgûl was no more, but that was simply logical. If physics didn't even work here, magic certainly wouldn't. The Nazgûl cringed, but the keen noticed that Nazgûl two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight were ganging up on Nazgûl one and nine. As if things weren't tense enough – everybody looked as if one more thing could send them sprinting for the type-thing. Non-scary Nazgûl or no, this was just too weird. Even Boromir wished to go back to being dead.

'As for soldiers...let me see...' Author Ev grabbed a small manual from her pocket, 'ah, here it is, on page three hundred and forty-two: you may wish to include a few soldiers to represent each army, but beware of repercussions. Well, Ve, by all means go ahead.' Author Ve typed furiously, and a huge glowing door appeared right above the Elves. Out tumbled a few of Haradrim, Easterlings, Corsairs, Gondor guards, Rohirrim (minus the horses), Elven archers, Uruk-hai, and other Orcs. Luckily the Elves had awesome reflexes, and the soldiers fell on a stone floor instead of a mass of immortal beings.

'Sorry for the repercussions, my Lords and Ladies.' The Authors received several piercing Elf glares.

Then, an anonymous person could be heard asking the question that would deliver much woe three times during this story...

'Where is Sauron?'

At which, the Mouth of Sauron was hurled from amongst the Ringwraiths (yep, those cloaks can hide a lot of people). He dusted his black armour off, then proceeded to announcing grandly: 'Sauron the Great, unlike thou morons, has sensed the pull into thy Unreal World, and would like to announce to the brats there that he will never leave Barad-dûr for such a gathering of-'

'He said that he wouldn't leave Barad-dûr?' interrupted Author Ve, with a glint in her eye.

'I thought thou deaf..yes, those were indeed his very words.'

Author Ve had already begun to type furiously. Author Ev realised what folly she was about to commit, and cried 'NOOOOOOOOOO!' she managed to snatch the typewriter away, but too late-

With a mighty clang, an iron gate landed in the middle of the room. Everyone realized it was attached to dark bricks, which made up a wall, which surrounded a gatehouse, which was only a tiny part of the mighty fortresses, factories, forges, smithies, prisons, hospitals, academies, government houses, kitchens, and towers of Barad-dûr. They looked up at the tallest tower, everyone except Grima who was trying to protect his neck from Saruman.

There came a clanking noise, which grew louder and louder and louder, until it sounded as if a million pennies were being dropped down the nineteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps of the main tower. Before anyone could fathom a guess at what it was, it stopped with a dull thud.

'I think the shock of landing in the Unreal World disturbed Him a little.' Whispered Author Ve. Author Ev's jaw had unhinged withfear of a Dark Lord that has just fallen down nineteen thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine steps, and she put it back in. ' We're in for it.' She began to type.

The fortress was completely empty save for the evil lord who clunked towards the horrified and astonished crowd-

'HALT!' shouted Author Ve.

'What?'

'Author Evangeline, you are describing the entry of the most evil being on Middle-Earth! You need to do it with more drama-'

'…Drama?'

'more imagination-'

'…Imagination?'

'more wickedness-'

'…Wickedness?'

'and more passion!'

'…Alright…'

The Dark Lord Sauron strode towards the horrified and astonished crowd, his mace in hand and his dark cloak swirling dramatically behind him.

'Excellent work, Ev.'

He made straight for the group of bravely united Elves, with utter disregard for everyone else in the recently enlarged room.

'Good. I can't even begin to guess what will happen.'

With a thoroughly fell cranking noise, he got down on an armoured knee and extended an evil gauntleted hand towards the fair Lady Galadriel, who cringed from the aura of malice.

'Wow, you're a professional now.'

Finally, in a deep and passionate voice, he asked: 'my dear Lady Galadriel, will you marry me?'

Utter chaos.

Well, not exactly. First, there was silence. Second, there was the sound of jaws dropping to the stone floor. Third, Celeborn pulled out a knife and tried to take off another of Sauron's fingers. Forth, Galadriel pulled out _her_ knife and attempted to do it herself. Fifth, Sauron charged at the Authors with his mace raised and the two elves on his tail. Sixth, Author Ev threw the only weapon she had - the heavy typewriter – at the Dark Lord, but she missed and it landed at Gandalf's feet. Then came the chaos part.

Gandalf immediately knelt down to examine the instrument, but Saruman saw his chance at revenge and attacked with a mighty yell. The two were soon engaged in trying to beat his opponent into submission with staffs. Grima reached towards the typewriter, but an Orc who was busy running from the Rohirrim stepped on his hand. Éowyn, meanwhile, was prepared to duel the Witch King, who in turn was being mobbed by Nazgûl two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight. Nazgûl nine and the Mouth of Sauron were surrounded by the soldiers of Gondor and are trying to break out. The King of the Dead was simply standing there, while people and creatures ran around and through him. The Ents were busy securing Shelob, who was busy trying to get back at Frodo and Sam, who were exchanging opinions in hobbit fashion, with no notice of the events around them.

'Nice, isn't it?' Author Ev commented.

Author Ve nodded, but said, 'never do that again. Next time we write Dark Lords, let me do it.'

They had managed to sneak onto a shelf and lost their pursuer and their pursuer's pursuers in the process. The mess looked excellent from this point. Just then, someone's sword flew up one of the anti-gravity spots, followed by a cry of pain. She was very absorbed in the scene, when Author Ev whispered: ' hey, what's this?'

She held up a large, plain gold ring.

'How'd that get here?'

A look of dawning comprehension came upon Author Ev's face. 'I think the One Ring is considered a character, by our standards, since it has a mind of its own. Therefore, when we summoned all of the characters...'

'Where is Sauron?' Author Ve unwittingly asked. She was answered by a burning hand on her shoulder.

'OWWW!' cried the Authors. 'These robes cost a fortune!' they fingered the hole Sauron burnt. While they were so distracted, Sauron snatched the Ring from Author Ev. The Authors gasped, but then relaxed. Magic didn't work here.

'I know the typewriter is useless, although the idiots out there might not have figured it out yet. Why would two otherwise powerless mortals throw away a weapon of such power? Even I would not lose such a means of control-'

Here the Authors stared pointedly at the Ring, and Sauron coughed (evilly).

'-in this situation. _You_ are the real masters of this place aren't you?'

'Maybe.' The Authors grinned.

'What do you mean by that smile on your faces? Speak!'

'You need to improve your perspective is all that we're saying.'

Suddenly, he realized something. He was thinking from a mere character's point of view. Now, the real Authors would not descend into such a dangerous event. Therefore-

'We are inside some other story by other Authors, aren't we?'

'As a matter of fact, we are the personifications of the real Authors. Therefore, you can't possibly hurt us because they won't let you.'

'Contrary to popular belief, I do learn from my mistakes. Even the most powerful Eye isn't all seeing. All I need to do to wreck the Authors' concentration is-'

He jumped down with an Author in each hand, and grabbed the nearest character, which happened to be Bill the pony. Sauron flung the poor animal into the air, where it stayed for a fraction of a second, then fell and landed on the most dignified King Elessar.

Merry and Pippin dragged the king from where he was lying – in-between clashing Haradrim and Rohirrim. 'Aragorn, wake up'

'You appear to be the only one with common sense around here.' Added Pippin.

The king sat up and rubbed his crowned head. He could have done better with a standard helmet.

Merry said, 'the rest of the people have gone insane is what I'm saying. Pip and I fell from the route back to the Shire, and landed in this nightmare.' An arrow sailed by his ear, and he looked to see Legolas mouthing 'sorry'.

'It's queer, see. We fell _down_ into the ground, but we fell out _sideways_ in the air.'

'Then those two authors tell us that we have to do something called type ourselves out.'

'Which we desperately want to do since there's no food in this place-'

'Then someone brought the Dark Tower into the middle of the room-'

'But instead of killing everyone in sight, Sauron proposes to Lady Galadriel!'

'Now there's a mess and no mistake. The Men and the Orcs are fighting. The Elves are defending themselves in ring formation, except for Celeborn and Galadriel, who are hunting for Sauron. The hobbits are listening to Mr. Bilbo's decision, and doing nothing at all.'

'The wizards are trying to hit each other with their staffs. The Ents are restraining a large, ugly spider. The Nazgûl are chasing two of their own around. Plus, every time someone dies, they come back to life.' They watched an Orc's head fly back onto the shoulders of its owner.

'The Nazgûl are disorganized for once?' inquired Aragorn.

'Yes, but we don't know why-'

'We're going to KILL YOU!' Shouted Nazgûl two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight, chasing the Witch King and Nazgûl nine. Éowyn was grinning.

'PEOPLE NEVER MENTION US! IT'S ALWAYS "NAZGÛL ONE TO NINE", AND NEVER "NAZGÛL ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT, AND NINE"!'

'Well, that answers our question...'

Aragorn called Éomer over. 'What are we going to do about this?'

'Have you seen a black-cloaked, armoured, mace-wielding figure of evil go by?' Asked Celeborn breathlessly (yes, he ran _that_ hard). Merry and Pippin shook their heads. The kings were still deep in conversation. Finally, they looked to the hobbits. 'You must sneak us that type object. From the sounds of it, it controls reality in this place.'

'Oh great...first the One Ring, now the One Type-thing...'slowly, they made use of their hobbit sneakiness, and tried to seek out the type-thing. Last time they saw it, Saruman had his robes caught in the machinery and was dragging it around...

Meanwhile, Sauron had made his way to the EVIL iron gateway of Barad-dûr. The authors were still smiling, but their expressions were somewhat thin. The Dark Lord sensed the real Authors' eyes on him again, and inwardly groaned. Outwardly, he muttered several curses in the Black Speech. His throwing-a-pony-and-harming-Aragorn distraction worked, though; he made it to the gate without being caught by two knife-wielding elves.

'You can't bring us out of here, you know.'

'Take a listen, then.' Sauron deposited them in front of the doors. For a split second, the authors' expressions changed to pure horror. They heard the sound of evil at work beyond that doorway. Somehow, Sauron had managed to make this door a portal to the actual Middle-Earth. However, their faces soon returned to the familiar smile. 'You still can't.'

'And what will stop me?' he swung open the doors, and everyone in the room froze from the din that came from the other side. Many stopped in the middle of fighting and/or stealing a heavy metal object from a wizard's robes.

'The fact that the Authors are running out of paper.'

'WHAT?' Sauron stepped into his fortress. The authors planted their feet firmly before the threshold.

'Look.' With a last smirk, the room and the authors melted into oblivion.

_Author Ev put down the pencil, and sighed. _

'_So, who won?'_

'_Well, as usual, we both failed to force the other into a plot hole.'_

'_Ah well.' Author Ve stapled the papers and put them into an already overstuffed folder. 'Let's get a bit to eat.'_

**Authors' Notes**

**Ev: that's it, Ve! Now press that save button, or use Ctrl-S**

**Ve: (thoughtful) hmmm…I wonder…**

**Ev: wonder what?**

**Ve: where is Sauron?**

**Ev: he went through the portal and back in Middle- OH NO!**

**Ve: yeah. That. Whose smart idea was it to put the One Ring in the story?**

**Ev: well, so what if he got the Ring? This is FAN fiction after all.**

**Ve: let's check…(reading from the book, The Return of the King)_ Out of the depths came his last wail _Precious_, and he was gone._**

**Ev: _There was a roar and a great confusion of noise. Fires leaped up and licked the roof. The throbbing grew to a great tumult, and the Mountain shook from His terrible power. Somehow-_**

**Ve: _just as Gollum fell, the One Ring suddenly appeared on His finger as he strode forth from the dark gates of Barad-dûr. By some deeper and darker magic than we can dare to imagine, the Dark Lord had summoned what is His from the brink of destruction. _**

**Ev:_ The Captains battling in front of the Gates saw the darkness extend, and the Ringwraiths return more powerful than ever before, and knew all was lost. Frodo's quest had failed._**

**Both: we really messed it up this time, didn't we?**

**Ve: _The Third Age has come to a horrible end, as the armies of Gondor and Rohan were crushed-_**

**Ev: ...err...Ve?**

**Ve: -_by the hordes of Mordor - _what?**

**Ev: is it me or is it getting frighteningly dark outside…**

**(They look at each other in fearful silence)**


End file.
